Unconditional
by EliadetheAkuma
Summary: After a long while of being together, Bronn finds himself falling for a prostitute. Rated M for mature themes, smut, Tyrion, etc.
1. Past

_**A/N: Didn't see many Bronn stories crawling about, had an idea, wrote it. This is the first chapter, enjoy. Starts off with the smut, just for clarification.**_

She had the hands of an archer.

Beautiful hands that were best when they were roaming his body or wrapped around his cock. She was a whore but she was so much more than that to him. She had spent so many nights with him just drinking and planning games or sitting around, doing absolutely nothing. They had even spent hours cuddling and just talking about their lives.

He had learned a lot about her in the process.

She was from Pentos, which found very astonishing considering she was a whore after all (he expected her to come from Lys). She was born to humble silk-merchants who were killed in a minor street brawl, leaving her on her own. She was sold to the pleasure-houses of Lys by one of the soldiers and trained there for several years. When she was fifteen, she was sold to Petyr Baelish and became one of his most-requested whores – he could see why – and then she was bought by one of the Lannister soldiers and then, there she was.

She took a long drink of her wine, smiling softly to herself as she looked over the golden chalice at him. She studied him intently with amused green eyes, watching as he just looked back at her, also taking a drink of the wine – it was damn good wine – he had in his cup.  
"Scars." She claimed, giving him an interested expression.

He laughed.

"Aye, but I will warn you, lass, this could take a while."

"Would you like to see mine first then?"

He studied her intently for a moment and watched as she shifted, placing her wine on the table by her. She then reached behind her and began undoing the tie on her dress. She turned her back to him the moment it was off and leaned forward, letting the ties to the dress go. He watched as it fell to the floor around her hips and his eyes slowly drifted up her back.

Thick scars, new and old covered the expanse of her pale back. Some were deep, some weren't…but they covered the entire expanse of her back. They also continued around her sides and up the back of her neck, extending until her hairline. He studied them, taking in every single one of them, stuck in a daze.

He was snapped out of immediately when she stood up fully and removed the dress fully, showing that her entire backside was covered in scars just like the ones on her back. She slowly turned and sat back down, keeping her legs closed. She laid her legs down off to the side, allowing him to see the scars that covered the sides of her thighs and her hips, obviously from men holding her too tightly. How he had not noticed these scars before when they've had sex was beyond him but now that he had seen them, he found himself having a greater respect for her and an odd desire to make, sweet gentle love to her.

"Now then, Master Warrior, show me yours."

She reached for her wine and took a sip as he began removing his shirt. Upon removing it, he stretched his muscles before relaxing and letting her see the scars that covered his chest. They were larger and deeper than hers but the point was that they both had scars. After deciding that she had seen all of the scars that were on his chest, he turned so that she could his back, which was covered in fewer scars. While these scars were fewer in number, they seemed too actually by thicker than the ones up front.

He waited a moment before turning and sitting. They took a few moments, just staring at each other before Bronn finally spoke.

"Come here, love." He almost murmured the words, speaking gently.

She slowly crawled over to him, bringing her wine with her. He gently pulled her between his legs and into his arms warmly. He gently stroked her cheek, watching her reaction. Slowly, he gently leaned down and kissed her passionately. He could taste wine in her mouth like an overpowering taste, but he continued kissing her. His tongue slipped in her mouth, quickly finding her tongue and coaxing it into a fight for dominance. While doing so, he pushed them both forward, lying down upon her as he laid her down.

Bronn had no idea why he was feeling the way that he was, but regardless, he was going to follow this feeling and what it was bringing him to do. Slowly, he reached between them and quickly removed his belt, noting that his sword was poking him in the thigh and it was irritating (now he knew how women felt). He also undid the tie on his pants before pulling away to remove them. Upon removing them, he brought himself back to her and wrapping his arms around her, he slid into her slowly and gently.

Her breath began coming out ragged and slow, as she was obviously getting pleasure despite the fact that she was being paid for this. Gradually, he brought himself to a rhythmic thrust. His fingers tangled within her hair and his lips descended upon hers, passionately making out with her as he made love to her.

He could feel her reaching the edge as he felt his own climax approaching. He increased the pace and power behind his thrusts and her cry of his name came out loud and genuine with her name quickly falling off his. Again, for odd reasons, he intertwined her hand within his and kept their bodies intertwined. Even as he reached behind him with his other hand and pulled a fur over the top of them, he kept their bodies together.

"Good night, master warrior." She breathed, settling calmly underneath him, her fingers twitching between his.

"Good night, Amavis."


	2. Unexplainable

"Why did you become a sellsword?"

"Why did you become a whore?" He challenged.

She sighed and a reluctant look crossed her face. She stared up at him from her position curled up in his arms and took another drink of wine. He watched her eyes the whole time, noting how mysterious they looked. Everytime she took a drink of wine, she looked over at him with those eyes, like she was hiding behind it.

He grabbed the wine glass from her and set it behind him.

"No more wine; tell me."

"No! 'Cause if I tell you mine, how do I know you will tell me yours?"

"You don't."

"So then I'm not telling you."

He frowned at her.

"That's unfair."

"Life's unfair, my love."

He scowled.

He was losing a battle. He was a **sellsword** and he was losing this battle to a lovely lady. Well, better that than losing it to a man. He looked down at her, watching as she laid her chin on his hairy chest, looking up at him from underneath thick, black eyelashes. Her hands were placed on either side of his body, her deft fingers tenderly stroking his sides. Her leg was draped over his like honey on a honeycomb, sharing body warmth underneath the pile of furs. Her hair, brown with lighter brown highlights, fell freely about her shoulders, ruffled and somewhat frizzy from the sex. Her lips called to him, looking like velvet as she opened and closed her mouth, waiting for his response.

It was a mellow moment; just a nice break from all of the chaos going on because of the war going on between the Lannisters and the Starks. It was very pleasant to receive a break in between the battles, maybe that was why she was still here and he was still paying her.

He gave her a look of intrigue, studying her features for a moment. Oddly, she got awkward and looked away from him, laying her cheek against his chest and closing her eyes. He sighed deeply and moved his hand to gently put it on her head, holding her to him. He was never going to get tired of her, it seemed. They weren't the type to have the same sex, kiss the same kiss…they always threw something new in.

He blinked as he heard snoring, soft and not extremely loud like that of the Lannister soldiers. He looked down, somewhat surprised. She was fast asleep on his chest, nostrils flaring a little as she breathed in and out of her nose and mouth. Her hands instantly molded to his sides and firmly held him to her.

"Good night, lovely lady." He murmured, relaxing against the comfort of her soft skin. He, too, quickly found himself falling asleep, even though it was during the day.

Bronn walked up to the entrance of the tent but paused immediately, making a face, realizing he had blood on his face. He frowned and searched his pockets for a handkerchief or something, but found nothing. He shrugged and opened the tent flap, all to find his worrying was for naught. She was still asleep, passed out where he had left her. The only difference was that there was a golden goblet in her hand and she had put a nightgown on.

She certainly had a liking for wine, didn't she?

He sighed heavily and grabbed his own cup of wine, finishing off the glass before walking over to the bed. He removed his belt, setting his sword down on the bed. He then removed his boots as well, before walking to the end of the bed where she lay, curled up on the floor. He grabbed the goblet from her, walking over to the dresser and putting it down upon the piece of furniture. He then grabbed a cloth off the nightstand and wiped his face clear of blood and guts.

Then, he came back to her and carefully lifted the blanket and pulled himself underneath it. He lifted her body by her waist and maneuvered himself underneath her. Her hands came up around his neck, her fingertips burying into his hair. She gave a sigh, relaxing into him just as he was relaxing into her.

Aye, this was a weird thing.


	3. Goodbye Exchange

"You're leaving."

Bronn set his shoulders, perplexed by her words. Yes, he was leaving. Tyrion was leaving for King's Landing and so, being his hired sellsword, he had to follow – that is if he still wanted to get paid and keep the whore who was lying on his bed at the moment, pouting.

"That I am." He responded, keeping his back to her.

"May I go with you?"  
He paused, stunned. He turned to her.

"What?"

She sat up from the bed.

"Take me with you."

He studied her eyes and observed the absolute seriousness in them. She was entirely meaning what she had said.

"You want to go with me to King's Landing?"

"Yes." She spoke firmly, her eyes daring him to allow her to go.

He walked over to the bed and brought himself down upon her, forcing her to lie back on the bed. He ignored that the sheath to his sword was probably digging into her thigh and stared her deep in the eyes instead.

"King's Landing is a dangerous place, 'y know. Filled with killers, rapists; people who would readily do what they wish with you, regardless of who you belong to or are with. If they want you bad enough, they will cut off the heads of those you are with and then do what they please, no matter who is watching. Anyone interferes; they will kill them as well. If you're lucky, they'll take a liking to you and torture you for many days before killing you or you will just become a slave to every will they have. Either way, you're dead to me."

"Either way, I'll die happily knowing I got to spend some more time with you." She murmured, staring him right back into the eyes, seemingly unmoved by his words. She wasn't shaking or showing any signs of fright.

He rolled his eyes, straightening himself to his full height. He watched her as he removed his belt and boots, which he had just put on minutes ago to leave for King's landing. She then watched as he strode back over to her, covering her body in his own and initiating a passionate kiss. Their tongues danced and tangled together as Bronn balanced himself above her, keeping his weight on his arms beside her head.

He pulled away, looming above her. He moved his hands from beside her head and placed his fingers on the ties holding her bodice. He began undoing them, doing so painfully slow. She kept her eyes on him as he undid the ties before wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her up towards him. He held her with one arm while he removed the dress she wore, leaving her only in her undergarments. She frowned at him as she looked up at him, only dressed in a rather-see through white dress. He observed her body through the dress, noting the curve of her breasts and the proportion of her hips. Her hips led down into smooth, long legs, the curve of her ankle, and then the feet of a dancer.

She did have the feet of a dancer; that was true. If she danced, she would be very beautiful and make a lot of money. If she could learn to move in such a way that left people wanting more, if she could move like she was art set in motion, then maybe she could be a dancer.

But, for now, she would dance in a different way. She would dance for the men she serviced and leave them wanting more and more of her. They could drink up her smile and beauty, but never ever would they be able to hold her heart in their hands. For a whore is no wife and a wife is no whore.

He gathered the gown in his hands before pulled it over her head with her help. The moment it was removed, he brought his lips down upon hers harshly, taking her bottom lip between his teeth and biting down on it. Her fingers went to the ties of his own tunic, thankful that he wasn't wearing his usual leather vest and began undoing them in a rush of passion. After freeing him from the invading piece of apparel, she ran her hands down his body and sliding the appendages into his pants.

Her fingers stroked the hardened muscle as he usually commanded of her. However, his hand grabbed her wrist and removed her hand from his pants, though unable to hide the grunt and groan that fell from his mouth when she had stroked him. He intertwined their fingers and pressed her hand into the mattress, taking control of the situation.

He immediately went back to kissing her, tangling their tongues together once more as he pressed her into the silk laid so carefully onto the bed, allowing her to feel just how aroused he already was. The desire was reflected by her, as she just wanted more and more from him than just being close together and kissing. She wanted him and she wanted him badly, but it seemed he wanted to tease her until she was begging him to fuck her.

However, she wasn't going to give him that satisfaction so easily. She took his lip between hers, removing her tongue from his hold and bit down on his lip – not hard enough to make him bleed but enough to make him get pleasure from the pain. She smirked to herself as her name fell from his lips, tangled with a sharp growl.

Her hand began to sneak down his pants again but he grabbed hold of her wrist and pinned it down to the bedding again.

"You won't get me so easily, my love." He tantalizingly whispered to her.

"Oh, is that so?"

In a quick moment, she slipped her legs out from underneath him and thus, caused his hardened member to slip against her lower region. He gave a soft moan of her name at the pleasing friction, but still he wanted more. As his hips rolled back, her hand shot forward and pressed against his thigh, stopping him in his returning motion.

"Don't you dare, you little prick." She scolded him, her hand tightening around his thigh as a deep blush settled on her face at holding him off from his attempt to hump her.

"You won't let me? Oh, I ought not to pay you." He teased, giving her a knowing smile.

"Why don't you just fuck me already? I am a whore, that's what I am here for. I am not here to be teased again and again and then denied a reward."

He scoffed and leaned forward, moving from his earlier position. Her grip on his thigh tightened as he loomed over her, their hot breathes mixing together.

"Denied a reward? Now that I am going to King's landing, I will be able to pay you so much more for your _long_ hours."

"Oh, why thank you, but while I am a whore, I ask for a different form of _payment_." She shifted her hips and pressed her nagging arousal against his, once again coaxing a loud moan-growl from the back of his throat.

"Are you in pain, love?" She asked him, reaching up to stroke his face. "Am I torturing you?"

"No." He responded, darkly.

In a swift movement, he had seized her thighs and pulled them hard against his cock, which she could feel through his pants.

"Oh god." She swallowed. "Take off the pants, god, just take them off."

He did as she asked, although she complained when the contact with him ceased. He quickly returned to her and descended down upon her once more, grabbing her hands and burying them into his hair. He then spread her legs apart and pressed himself between them. He smirked as he just lay there for a moment, staring down at her face as she waited for her cavern to be filled.

She glared him down, irritated by his teasing reluctance.

Just as she opened her mouth to complain, he pressed himself into her, causing a loud cry of his name to fall off her lips. He pulled himself out most of the way, leaving only his tip in her before slamming back in with enough force to rock the bed and probably break it but he was hardly concerned about the bed. She grasped his shoulders and brought him down upon her body, digging her nails harshly into his shoulder blades. She dragged her nails down his skin, leaving bright red marks in their wake.

He continued to thrust deep into her as the coil began to build in her stomach. She cried out again and again with every thrust and with every thrust, both came closer and closer to the beautiful edge that they were ready to tumble over together. With a quick pullback and a rough slam forward, he felt as both of them came together, panting ad coiled in warmth.

He collapsed upon her, not even holding himself up with his elbows anymore. She panted loudly, her hands flat against the middle of his back. She slowly brought her hands up and gently rubbed the red marks she had left on his back.

"Apologies." She whispered, breathlessly.

"Don't worry about it." He gave a small cough. "Worse has happened before."

She sighed and ran her fingers over the marks again.

"Want to go again, love?"


	4. Filth, Part l

The poor girl was in desperate need of getting away from Joffrey. She needed home; she needed family. Sansa Stark reminded her so much of who she used to be; lost, frail and scared. But she had grown out of it and she hoped Sansa would as well. She glanced over at the red-haired fourteen year old girl and softened her eyes. She had a bruise just beneath her left eye that was slowly healing and sinking into her skin, fading away.

Amavis grabbed the goblet on the table, filled it halfway with wine and bypassed the table, walking over to Sansa. She held out the cup of wine, which Sansa took with a small smile.

"If I may ask," Sansa started, making sure to use a proper tone and words. "What is your name?"

Amavis smiled and leaned slightly against the vanity.

"My name is Amavis, my lovely lady."

"Amavis…that is a very pretty name."

"So is Sansa, my lovely lady."

Sansa smiled a little wider.

"Where do you come from, Amavis?"

"I," She stopped leaning on the vanity, going to Sansa's bed and beginning to straighten it. "Come from Pentos."

"Pentos." Sansa repeated, slowly drinking her wine.

"How did you come to be here? In King's Landing?"

Amavis stopped abruptly, swallowing thickly as a frown crawled onto her features. Bronn flashed before her eyes.

She smiled again, gently tugging on the sheet. "A man…a handsome man."

"He brought you here?"

"Yes." She nodded, continuing to fix Sansa's bed.

"To marry you?" A hint of excitement leaked through Sansa's polite tone.

"Unfortunately…no. We are merely friends…with uh, benefits."

Sansa understood what she meant right away.

"Oh." Sansa looked down, a disappointed frown on her face.

Amavis observed her for a moment before grinning.

"Perhaps he'll marry me someday! I can only dream, I guess. I will never be as lovely as you, my lady."

Sansa looked over at her, smiling softly. She stood and walked over to her.

"Do you love him?" Sansa asked, looking into her eyes.

Amavis stared back at Sansa, rolling the question around in her head. Did she love him? Did she love Bronn? Had she actually fallen for him?

"Yes! I do!" Amavis flopped back onto Sansa's bed with a broad smile. Sansa followed the same motion, giggling.

At least Amavis was good for something else besides whoring…

* * *

"How did you get to be a handmaiden?" Bronn asked her as they walked through the halls of the castle.

Amavis giggled and shrugged. "I walked into Sansa's room and said I was a new handmaiden."

"That's it?"

"Yeah."

Bronn stopped, smiling at her. "You're so clever."

She smirked. "Oh yes, I am."

She grabbed hold of his collar and went to kiss him when the sound of another voice interrupted.

"What's this? A sellsword with a lady?"

She pulled away from Bronn, letting go of his collar and turning to face her interruption. Bronn grabbed hold of her forearm and pulled her a little behind him, making her swallow thickly and looked up at him. His expression was serious and dangerous; he was being extremely protective and he looked like he might murder their company, should they take a step forth.

"Oh, wait, 'tis not a lady! It is a **whore**." Ser Meryn Trant impolitely pointed out, speaking in a harsh and demeaning tone.

"She's fit of you, sellsword, but I must admit…" The Ser's eyes ran over her body and he licked his lips. "I would fuck her until her cunt couldn't take anymore."

Bronn defensively grabbed his knife with his other hand and she felt herself begin to tremble with the adrenaline and presence of danger. If she was into it, the adrenaline and presence of danger would give her a thrill. But it wasn't thrilling to be in the middle of a dispute that could end in lost limbs, lives or honor.

"Tell you what, whore, I will pay you twice what this bastard is paying you."

Bronn shoved her behind him even more. Meryn awaited an answer and she swallowed thickly.

"I'm very sorry, Ser, but this sellsword has hired me to fuck with him for as long as he pleases. Until he is done with me, I cannot take another offer."

"Oh, now I see. Part of the deal is that you are with no other man."

Amavis frowned.

Bronn shifted on his feet, eyes narrowing at Ser Meryn. For a few moments it was silent, but then Meryn burst into laughter.

"You don't fuck with another man? What kind of _whore_ are you?!" Meryn continued to laugh and Bronn drew his knife and went to attack Meryn. She quickly swung herself in front of Bronn, wrapped her arm around his neck and grabbed hold of the hand holding the knife. Meryn took a step back.

"See you later, _whore_." He spat, beginning to walk away.

Amavis watched him leave, still holding Bronn to her.

"I've got to go. I will see you tonight."

She kissed his cheek gently and walked away, leaving Bronn standing there.

* * *

It was late and Amavis was finally done with all the traditional handmaiden duties. Sansa was safely tucked in bed, asleep and dreaming of a life beyond Joffrey. Amavis was making her way through the halls, having pep in her step courtesy of finally being able to return to her lover. She paused instantly as the three soldiers emerged from the end of the hallway. She instantly recognized who they were and hesitantly took a step back.

"I told you…" Ser Meryn grinned. "I would see you later."


	5. Filth, Part ll

_**A/N: Sort-of fluffy chapter. Enjoy!?**_

Amavis stumbled down the hallway, hand tightly grasping at the stone of the wall beside her. She could feel the pain between her legs throbbing repeatedly, making her tense along with it. She could see the door in clear sight. She just wanted to crawl into the bed she shared with Bronn and fall asleep, forgetting this had ever happened. She may be a whore but she still had some dignity and respect for herself. She gave the men she was with _permission_ to do what they wished with her and _those scoundrels_ hadn't had her permission. Even as they violated her, she begged them to stop and still, they had persevered.

She clutched at her dress, feeling self-conscious and vulnerable. She wanted to cover herself, to cover the _dirt_ that she felt smeared across her now but her dress was in absolutely shreds and the ends of her dress were covered in blood and semen from attempting to clean herself. She felt her eyes water and reached up to wipe them, finding herself unable to care that she was wiping semen and blood on her face.

She tried to stop crying, blinking repeatedly, but it didn't stop the tears from streaking down her face. She kept stumbling down the hall and barely flinched when she hit the door harshly. She fumbled for the knob, but found that her vision was too blurry and erratic to find the knob. She cursed aloud, still crying when the door suddenly flew open ad she fell in, caught off-guard.

She was caught halfway through her fall which prevented a concussion but she could hardly care. All she could do was be ashamed and try to cover herself, hands becoming increasingly crimson with every attempt.  
"What happened? What happened?"

She could hear his repeated words as she tried to force the dress to cover her shameful condition, but immediately gave in when Bronn's hands grabbed onto hers and held them, forcing her to look up at him. She continued to cry, tightly holding onto him as he gently held her.

"What happened?" He repeated one more, moving his other arm to wrap around her back and bring her closer to him.

"They…they r-raped me…" She sobbed out, sniffling in between each word.

"Who?" His tone got protective as he gently took her face in his hands, making her focus on him. "Who did this to you?"

"T-those…men…from-from…earlier." She felt herself cry harder at the very thought of when she had met them and they had attempted to make her a proposition when she was with Bronn earlier that day. God, she wished she had let Bronn murder them. God, she wished she did…

"I'll have them **beheaded**, those little-"

She found herself chuckling softly.

"Come on, love, a raped…w-whore? Who will believe that?"

"Me, my love, I believe you."

"But they won't…"

Her tears got worse at the thought of the exposure of the incident.

"Please." She grasped his hand tightly, almost to the point of drawing blood. "They'll humiliate me! They'll laugh at me! Please don't tell anyone! Don't tell anyone!"

She continued to sob out 'Don't tell anyone' as Bronn gently wrapped her in his arms and brought her up against him.

"Shh, I won't." He whispered. "I won't."

* * *

_**She was a whore.**_

She was a whore, and she was being hired by a man who wished for her to fuck him. And here she was, unable to even think of doing anything sexual to anyone ever. She couldn't even stand to be nude before a man, as had been demonstrated approximately ten minutes ago. Amavis put her hand underneath the bloody water and lifted the water up, watching as it slipped through her fingers and fall back into the water. She wondered if she should get out of the water, with all the blood and semen floating around in it. She sighed and blinked her eyes clear, looking up at the ceiling, feeling tears brim on the edges of her eyes.

She closed her eyes again, allowing one tear to slide down her face. She began taking deep breathes, trying to calm down. She was a whore, she reminded herself, and she couldn't give up and run away just because this had happened. _She needed to be strong_, she told herself.

"Okay." She wiped her eyes and stepped out of the bath. She grabbed her towel and dried herself off, before grabbing her nightgown and pulling it on. She left the bathroom and smiled to herself at Bronn, who was already passed out in bed, an empty wine glass in his hand. He wasn't even underneath the sheets; he was just lying there atop the bedding. She chuckled and passed her side of the bed to walk over to his, carefully removing the wine glass from his hand and placing it on the nightstand.

After doing so, she gathered her nightgown in her fingers and gently crawled over the top of Bronn, successfully not hurting him. She lay down by his side, her head on his shoulder, hand on his chest, and one leg draped over his. He seemed to wake up a little, bringing his arm around her and pulling her mostly on top of him, bringing her face to his neck and wrapping his arm around her whole body.

She gave a soft sigh and held him tighter.

All the rest of the world just seemed to slip away then; all the darkness fell away and she felt better. She felt _almost_ as if the rape hadn't happened.


	6. Lannisters and Kisses

"You need to broaden your vocabulary." Amavis commented from her position lying on the bed, flipping through an old dictionary. Her words caused Bronn to abruptly stop sharpening his sword, giving her a look that she could only laugh at.

"What? Please tell me you know what broaden means." She responded.

He chuckled, put his sword down and walked over to her. She watched as he bent over the bed to be at her level.

"Yes, I know what broaden means, love." He spoke, sounding somewhat annoyed. She smiled broadly and looked back down at the book, her fingers running over the page before stopping on a word.

"What about beautiful? What does beautiful mean?"

"Is there a sketch of you on the page?" Bronn's face wrinkled as he asked, sounding incredibly serious and she watched as he took the book from her and his eyes scanned the page. She laughed and shoved on his shoulder playfully.

He smiled and stood, crawling onto the bed beside her and cuddling up to her while she continued to read the dictionary.

"Enhances." She told him. "What does enhances mean?"

He made a face, much like the one he made when she asked about 'broaden'.

She rolled her eyes as she went back to the dictionary, her emerald eyes scanning the page before reciting what was written there.

"Intensify, increase, or further improve the quality, value, or extent of."

"Hm, sounds like a word I would use often."

"Really now?" She asked, looking at him and raising an eyebrow. He smirked and leaned forward, passionately kissing her pink lips. She closed her eyes as his tongue slid into her mouth and his hand found the side of her head and he pushed her flat onto the mattress, bringing his body up against her. She wrapped her arms around him, kissing him back with just as much passion as he had kissed her with.

After a few minutes, he pulled away from her and she was smiling at him. She moved her arm to wrap around his waist as she smiled up at him. He smiled back down at her, gently stroking the back of her neck as they lay there. He was happy to just lay there for hours with her wrapped in his arms…

"So, why does he want to meet me?" Amavis asked, face wrinkled in confusion and eyes soft as she looked at her lover. They were walking towards the chambers of the Hand of the King, Tyrion Lannister. She was incredibly interested to the meet the 'Imp' who was known far and wide by men and whores alike. He seemed to be an interesting enough man and she had heard many a thing about him. She had heard that he pleased the whores he was with and that he was a dwarf (half-man was the word used). It was safe to say that she had hung around whores perhaps a little too much.

"Well, you have been fucking his bodyguard _and_ acting as a handmaiden to the lady Sansa. I'm sure he just wants to meet ya." Bronn stated as he stopped by the door to Tyrion's room.

"How does he know I've been _fucking_ you, huh?" She asked him, stopping beside Bronn and giving him a curious, unamused look.

"_Well_, I may have mentioned someone who makes me _happy_…" He trailed off, causing her to roll her eyes and gesture to the doorknob with her eyes. Bronn moved forward and opened the door, making it creak at being moved. He gestured with his hand for her to enter and she did as he bade her to, walking with grace and forcing a smile to her face.

Needless to say, she was partly surprised by what she saw. He was a dwarf, standing up till her waist, if that. His hair was a brown-blonde and incredibly curly; his eyes were a lighter green than her but no less shiny and mysterious. His face was clean-shaven and looked smooth to the touch. He was dressed in a black leather undershirt with a golden embroidery, leather red tunic over the top of the undershirt. His somewhat wrinkled hands were decorated by a single ring on each hand. On his left hand was a stylized, personalized ring shaped into a lion, obviously a reference to his membership to the Lannister house. The other was a normal, simple ring with a red gem at the center of it.

She smirked to herself. So the rumors _were_ true.

"Ah, you're finally here." His voice was relaxed and laid-back, as calm as can be. He looked her up and down, taking in her slightly leaning form and her neatly folded hands.

"Finally here? What do you mean by that?" Bronn demanded, looking his lord up and down with irritation.

"I mean I sent for you an hour ago. Did you two decide to fuck before you came here? Is that why it took so long?"

Bronn rolled his eyes. "Did you decide to shove a stick up your ass before coming here?"

"No. Unfortunately, I am not made for such things. I prefer to be the one sticking things up other's asses."

"Is that why they call you the Imp?" Amavis asked before Bronn could return the favor.

"No." He responded, leaning into his chair. "They call me the Imp because of the word's meaning."

"A mischevious child?" She scoffed. "So it is both a reference to your height and your mannerisms under the sheets."

"Well," He stood from the chair, losing his added height. "It's not always under the sheets."

She rolled her eyes casually.

"Now, lovely lady, tell me your name." He stood in front of her now, looking up at her with interested orbs of green. She smirked and bowed.  
"Amavis, at your service, Milord."

She returned to her full height, making the dwarf narrow her eyes at him.

"Amavis? That is an interesting name. Where do you come from?"

"Pentos."

"Ah, Pentos. A pretty place, is it not?"

"Yes, Milord."

"Bronn, would you leave us?" Tyrion asked, glancing at his bodyguard.

"I—"

"Bronn, leave us." She looked back at him, giving him a reassuring smile. "It will be alright."

He glanced at Tyrion before turning and leaving, shutting the creaky door behind him. Amavis looked back to Tyrion, who had gone back to his desk and begun pouring wine.

"It has come to my attention that you are acting as a handmaiden to Lady Sansa."

"That I am."

"Why?" He asked, looking up at her with serious eyes. She stared into them for a few moments, rolling her answer around in her head.

"Because she needs someone good, someone to make her smile. And, a handmaiden is the only other use I have compared to a whore. I didn't cross the Narrow Sea to become worthless."

There was silence for a few minutes until Tyrion spoke.

"Who educated you?"

Immediately, she looked off to the side and out the window of the tower. She didn't respond and continued to stare out the window.

"I said—"

"Petyr Baelish." She responded quickly, looking back to him.

Tyrion leaned back into his chair again, looking both curious and satisfied at the same time.

"Petyr Baelish educates his whores?"  
"Not all of them, but some of us, yes."

"Some of you? Let me guess: the ones he deems 'special'?" He asked, drinking his wine.

"Yes." Was her simple response.

"Well, back to business." He got down from his chair again, grabbing the other cup of wine and bringing it to her. He held it up to her and she took it with a nod of her head in thanks.

"Tell me, would you come into my bed if I made you an offer? I can clearly pay you much more than my companion and offer you more than he can."

"Oh? You're so sure of that?"

"Well, I am not saying I have seen what my companion has to offer a woman – that would be just disgusting to both me and you, as I'm sure – but I can offer you safety and _a lot of gold_." He responded.

She downed her wine before walking over to his desk and setting down the bottle of wine. She strode back to him.

"Milord, I appreciate the offer, but…" She bent down to his level. "The best you can get from me is a kiss, milord."

She gently placed a hand on his neck and leaned him forward, bringing her lips against his. Tyrion's eyes closed and just as he was about to bring her closer, she opened her own eyes and bit down on Tyrion's lip lightly before pulling away, standing and walking towards the door.

"Good day, milord."

She opened the door and left, closing it behind her.

"You truly are a clever woman, aren't you?" Tyrion muttered, looking dazed and confused as he stood there.


	7. Bleeding Out, Part l

Amavis read the letter in silent fret, gently rubbing her lip between her fingers. _Lord Baelish_ was scribbled in fancy, cursive handwriting: the handwriting of said man. She frowned and strode over to the desk by the bed and sat down in the chair, setting the letter down in the process and staring down at it while still rubbing her bottom lip between her index finger and thumb.

The letter was _supposedly_ an extension of hospitality, but she knew what it really was. It was a demand of payment, of rightful payment no less, and she owed Lord Baelish and boy, did she owe him. He was her true owner, if she were to think realistically, and she should have been giving her the money Bronn had been giving her but she hadn't been – she had been keeping it in a jewelry box underneath their bed, keeping it safe.

While she wasn't technically saving for anything, she also didn't want to buy anything. Nothing in the market suited her fancy, not that anything ever did anyway. In her years with Baelish, she had never bought herself a single thing. Lord Baelish had taught her that "whores don't buy anything for themselves". They "pay for" the belongings of others, something they should consider "an honor". She just didn't know _how_ to buy for herself.

She sighed deeply and grabbed a piece of parchment. Bronn had told her that if she needed any parchment, she was more than welcome to use it, so she figured it would be okay if she just one piece of it. She grabbed the ink and the quill, quickly wetting the quill and then setting it to the parchment, writing the response letter in the quickest manner possible.

After all, Petyr Baelish wasn't a patient man.

* * *

Petyr stood calmly in the center of the great garden, gently stroking the tender petals of a young rose which had just barely begun to sprout from the ground. He smirked to himself as he heard footsteps from behind him. He turned but found that no one was standing there. He wrinkled his eyebrows in confusion when a voice spoke from his left side.

"Lord Baelish! Walk with me." The voice was it had always been: it dripped like honey and flowed like a fluid river. If the right words came from that voice, they could cut deeper than a knife and hurt even the most guarded man. They could strike fear into the hearts of the bravest men and create doubt in the most trusting of men.

He turned and narrowed his dark eyes at the striking woman. Her hair was curled and pulled into a ponytail of bouncy curls, with only a few curls falling around her face. She was dressed in a rather high-end silk sundress that was a light red, with ruffles on the sleeves, collar, and around the length of the bottom of the skirt.

She folded her hands within each other and began walking around the garden and he quickly followed, catching up to her within moments.

"What are you doing in such high-end clothing, my dear? Did you catch a catch?" He asked, sounding genuinely business-like.

"Oh yes, quite the catch."

He narrowed his eyes at her.  
"Who is this '_catch_'?"

"Someone of high standing."

He grabbed rough hold of her chin, forcing her to stop. She looked up into the darkened eyes of her owner, showing no sign of fear.

"When I tell _you_ to tell _me_ something, my dear, _you_ **best tell** _me_. Now, who is this man?" His words were low and harsh, an attempt at threatening.

"His name is Bronn."

Baelish scoffed, smiling in a disbelieving way, releasing her chin. She glared up at him through black eyelashes, looking annoyed that he had handled her in such a way.

"Bronn? Oh, you mean that _sellsword_ that serves the Imp."

"His name is Tyrion. Tyrion Lannister." She told him.

"Oh, you care about the Imp, hm? Are you _collecting_ from him as well? How much does he pay you to fuck his little cock and this Bronn's? Hm? Tell me that, my dear."

She narrowed her eyes at him darkly, lips taking on a feral growl-like appearance.

"How dare you? Insulting Bronn? Insulting _Tyrion_?! You must have a vendetta against one of the-"

Her words immediately cut off as she felt a fist collide with the side of her face and her head flew sideways at the impact of the hit and she felt a sharp pain in her nose and then blood go everywhere. She lifted a deft hand and put it over her nose, glaring up at Baelish now with clumps of blood on her black eyelashes.

"You best remember _who you are_, Amavis and who you belong to."

He then left, walking off as calmly as possible. She glanced around the courtyard, wondering if anyone had seen Baelish. Seeing no one in the garden, she quickly exited the garden to clean herself up, avoiding the Tower of the Hand and the usual path she took.

* * *

"So, Baelish wants payment?" Bronn asked from the desk as she gently removed the tie from her hair and let the dark curls fall about her smooth shoulders.

"Yes; he made some very _feral_ comments toward you and Tyrion." She responded, running her fingers through the hair to flatten it. "And I defended against these comments."

"Is that why he broke your pretty little nose?"

She laughed and turned to look at him. "Aye, that seems to be why."

He scoffed. "Now we're a matching pair."

She scoffed in return and stood, crossing the room in a few minutes. When she reached the desk, she smirked and gathered her skirt in her hands and sat down upon his lap.

"We've always been a matching pair, my love." She whispered to him.

He chuckled and took her face in his hands, bringing her lips down to his. Instantly, they began to passionate make out, tongues intertwining. Her fingers found his long, shaggy black hair and he quickly grasped her hips, bringing them up against his. Her breath hitched at the contact and her eyes drifted closed. He pulled away from her a little, smirking broadly.

He reached between them and undid the tie on his pants quickly. Her breath came out ragged as she gently held onto the sides of his neck. He put his fingers between her legs and guided her onto him. Her breath hitched immediately before she gradually slid onto him.

She wrapped her arm around his neck and brought her lips back onto his again, continuing their previous session of making out with each other, as she began to ride him. He returned the kiss with equal fervor, placing his hands back on her hip and guiding her every thrust.

* * *

She sipped on the wine in silence; it was morning time and time to drink. She enjoyed the high quality wine she was able to drink with being with Bronn, it tasted very good to her taste buds and good wine meant a good day. She heard the door open and grinned to herself, turning around to give the man a hug.

She frowned instantly as she found that it wasn't the person she was expecting. She looked the man up and down, noticing how mysterious and suspicious he appeared to her logical mind.

"Who are you?" She asked curiously, assuming the man was someone Bronn was to meet.

The man rushed at her, lifting his arm to reveal a knife he had hidden. The knife went through her abdomen before she could realize what was happening and she gave a loud cry at the immense pain that made her body spasm and she fell to the ground, grasping at the wound to her abdomen. She gasped for breath within the few moments she was able to and tried to protect herself when he descended upon her, the knife cutting random paths across her face. She then watched with wide eyes as the knife slammed down and roughly thrust through the skin of her eyeball. She screamed, and it echoed through the halls.


	8. Bleeding Out, Part ll

Tyrion Lannister knocked on the door quietly; hoping that the woman he was seeking to speak to was home. When there was no answer and only silence, he knocked only two more times, hope sinking to the pit of his stomach. The hallway and room were eerily quiet; he could usually hear Amavis laughing, maids running to and fro to service needs, or even Bronn walking about, his sword swinging at his side. But there was nothing, absolutely nothing. Not even the creak of the bed or table when inclined to offer its services. Tyrion turned to leave, adjusting the large velvet box in his little arms, deciding he would just return later.

"Uhhh…" The groan and the sound of fabric shifting caused Tyrion to stop abruptly and turn immediately, finally allowing his mind and eyes to observe what was laid before him. The door was slightly open and it seemed the lock on it was broken. Cautiously, he stepped closer to the door, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. It was only reasonable to be cautious – he was a dwarf, after all, and he had no weapons on him at the time. He would be as easily overwhelmed as the person inside.

Stepping up to the door, he extended a short arm and eased the door open, green eyes darting back and forth as he did so. The door wasn't even halfway open when he rushed in, seeing the familiar white dress stained with crimson. He dropped the box upon reaching the woman's side, quickly taking to his knees and gently placing his hands on the sides of her face.

Her right eye was gouged out, said organ unaccounted for. Her other eye was half-lidded and unmoving, and her beautiful, tanned face was hardly even visible underneath the seemingly endless layers of red. Her dress seemed like it had never been white, soaked with blood from another injury that Tyrion couldn't trace _because_ of how much blood she was soaked in. Unshed tears held still around the edge of her left eye, as though time had come to an absolute stand-still.

"Amavis? Amavis?! Come on…" He gently tilted her head to the side, hoping she would suddenly spring to life and he would find this was all a joke. But this wasn't a joke…and she wasn't springing to life. There was absolutely nothing living about her – her eye was silent and unmoving, her lips were frozen in a stilled breath, her chest remained burdened by the inability to breathe…

"GUARDS! GUARDS! HELP! HELP ME!"

* * *

"How is the girl faring? It is my understanding that she has lost her left eye." The spider whispered to Tyrion as he sat behind his desk, downing his seventh glass of wine that day, eyes dark and concentration gone. Ever since he had found her lying on the ground, _dying_, he hadn't gotten any work done at all. He had called for the guards, and then sent for Pycelle (since he was the only one able to help). And here was, drinking himself to death, waiting for the news on whether she would be okay.

Varys continued to look at him, expectant of an answer but he didn't receive one. He shifted under the weight of the silence, narrowing his eyes at the man.

"You've grown attached to her in what little time you have known her."

Again, Tyrion said nothing, finding himself unable to find words to respond to the eunuch. Varys sighed and stood, stiffening his back for a moment before walking over to the door. On his way out, he paused at the door, hand on the doorknob.

"She adopts many of your principles, I suppose, and perhaps that is why you care for her. Or maybe, just maybe, she's a broken thing."

Varys exited, closing the heavy door behind him with a thud. Tyrion sat there for a few more minutes, finished his glass of wine, before standing and leaving, finding his way down the stairs and toward the room he had left only hours ago.

* * *

_The sky was dark with clouds and rain poured down like a river. The ship tossed violently back and forth between the force of the waves, continuing to sail on regardless of Mother Nature trying to stop it and deter it. They had hit one of the harsher parts of the Narrow Sea but it would soon be over and they would find themselves in Blackwater Bay. Underneath the deck, families clung onto each other, terrified and looking for warmth. Amavis, only fifteen years old, sat in the farthest corner of the lower deck, wrapped in a thin, raggedy cloak. She shivered, staring down at the wood before her as though it was the most interesting thing in the world._

_She was in a brand new world, far away from the home she had memorized like the back of her hand in the fifteen years she had been there. She was headed to a new life, a new family, and a new land with new people. She had to admit she was scared, not knowing what she would find there or what life was like over there. Not only that, but she had been sold as a whore to a Petyr Baelish. She had already felt the harsh side of the world and it felt like it couldn't get any worse…_

* * *

_Amavis finished the man off quickly, making one final thrust against his body, making him grip her hips tightly – enough to leave marks – and then slowly settle down. When he released her hips, she stood from the bed and started dressing herself again._

"_You can't stay for just a few minutes?" He asked as she clipped her top together in the front._

"_No, Ser, I have another client waiting for me, in fact." She responded as she looked around for the skirt to her outfit. She noticed it was on the edge of the bed and walked over, placing her hands on it and lifting it. The man quickly grabbed hold of her wrist and pulled her up to the side of the bed and grasped her chin with his other hand._

"_I pay you for __**pleasure**__, whore and I am not __**pleased**__ yet so—"_

"_What is going on here?" A voice interrupted, causing him to release her chin and practically shove her away. Petyr Baelish gave the man an expectant look, obviously waiting for him to explain himself._

"_Just finishing up, Lord Baelish."_

"_Well, Ser, there's something I need you to understand." Petyr strode across the room to the man, standing in front of Amavis and looking toward the man. "My customers don't really like damaged property, which is why you are not to handle them with more force than necessary for pleasure. This dear one had finished with you as you asked her to when you attempted to hurt her—"_

"_I—" _

"_No, no, no; don't deny it. I saw it. Now, Amavis has an appointment she needs to keep so…" Petyr stepped forward and grabbed the skirt, throwing it at Amavis, who caught it and looked at him expectantly._

"_Dress and leave, my dear, your next client is in room 5."_

"_Y-yes, milord." She responded, stuttering slightly before pulling the skirt on and exiting, walking through the brothel. _

"_Hey, Ros." She greeted the fiery ginger as she passed her, watching as she led a man to a room. Ros gave her a smirk in response, making her smile a little. She continued to walk down the hallway, finding room 5 quickly. Upon finding it, she paused and braced herself, hoping that the client inside wasn't as bad as the previous one. Then, she grabbed the doorknob and opened it, light immediately blinding her._

Amavis's eye opened slowly, adjusting to the bright light streaming in through the window. She glanced around, vision still blurred. She saw a short figure standing at the end of the bed, only able to make out red, brown and gods, something else that she couldn't see just yet. She blinked her eye repeatedly and her vision finally came into focus.

She heaved a great breath. "Master dwarf…"

"My name is Tyrion." He responded, adjusting the piece of parchment in his hand.

She chuckled. "Tyrion…Master Tyrion."

"I am not your master, either. I am just Tyrion."

She scoffed. "Well, okay then."

Tyrion sighed deeply and lifted the parchment, looking it over again and then dropping it to his side. He looked back up at her and noticed her eyes were wide.

"That…that i-is Lord Baelish's…" She coughed. "Seal…"

"Yes." Tyrion nodded, smiling a little for a few seconds. "It is."

"What…" She searched his eyes. "What is on that parchment?"

He sighed again and lifted the parchment, looking it over again. He didn't need the parchment to tell her what was on it – he had reread it millions and millions of times it seemed. So, he neatly folded the parchment and tucked it away.

"The parchment says…" He drew closer to her, coming up to her bedside and taking up her hand before continuing. "'I, Lord Petyr Baelish, have sold Amavis to Tyrion Lannister, Hand of the King as she is no longer of use to me'…"

He saw tears well up in her eyes but he persevered. "'In addition, I have taken all of her earnings while she was servicing an unknown male and will keep it as it is my money to bear. Tyrion Lannister, Hand of the King, has full responsibility and ability to do with her what he wishes'."

"H-he sold me to you?"

Tyrion looked down, tightening his grip on her hand. "I convinced him to."

"Why?" She asked.

"Well," He looked back up at her. "If I don't have some sort of connection with you, then I cannot permit such a surgery."

Her face wrinkled in confusion and it only made her look stranger, with the bandage wrapped over the right side of her face. Before she could ask any questions, the door opened and in came Hallyne and a few other men (and women). He sighed deeply and looked to Hallyne.

"Is she ready?" Hallyne asked.

"Am I ready for what?" Amavis asked.

"Seven hells, this is not how I meant to tell you." Tyrion hung his head for a moment before raising it again and looking to Amavis. "When I found you in your…_condition_, I requested Hallyne give you a new eye."

"A new eye? How is that possible?" She glanced around the room.

"If you don't mind my lady?" Hallyne asked, stepping forward.

"Um…not at all."

Hallyne nodded and stepped forward. "We have been working on being able to replace lost appendages for a long time, my lady and up until now, we haven't been successful, but just a short while ago, we managed to replace a lost tail on a mouse."

"But a mouse is different from a human, ser."

Hallyne nodded. "Of course, but Lord Tyrion requested we try this on you, my lady."

She looked back to Tyrion. "Why?"

"Well, let's just say I have a soft spot for broken things…" She continued to stare at him, looking unappeased. "…_And_ you seem to have integrated one of my principles that I once advised a bastard to do."

"Oh?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. "And what principle was that?"

"_Never forget what you are; the rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor and it can never be used to hurt you_." Tyrion responded.

She took a deep breath and looked back to Hallyne.

"Okay, let's…uh…do this."


End file.
